A Game of Chess

Raistlin and Palin at the Inn. A bit of a what-if story: what if Raistlin stayed, after the Chaos War? Not that much happens in this story–as far as adventuring is concerned, that is. If you're interested in people, though, it's fun.

"Knight to A7."

I shook my head. "King to A7." The knight melted back into the game board. "You forgot that the king can take."

"I'm still learning, okay?"

"I know, Palin, I know." I laughed. "But that's no reason to be too easy on you, now is it?"

Palin laughed, too.

We had set up a game on the stoop, sitting on either side of the stairs. The board was in the middle. As befits wizards, it was a magikal set: it seemed to be a part of the wooden steps, and everyone who played on it 'saw' different pieces. Palin had elves for pawns, the inn for rooks, Solamnics for knights, and figures of Goldmoon for bishops. Paladine and the Healer, His wife, were king and queen. I was my king, next to Takhisis the queen. My pawns were draconians, clerics to evil gods served as bishops, my knights were nightmares, and my rooks were wizards' towers. But if someone else played, the pieces would shape themselves to be whatever they would like.

"Queen to A5. Check."

"Bishop to A6."

"Queen to–wait, no. Rook to A6. Check."

I nodded. "Good for you. Rook to A6."

"Pawn to B6."

"Bishop to E5."

"Queen to A4."

"Rook to A4."

"Hey!"

"I've been doing this a long time, my boy–longer then you have been alive. For every minute you've played, I've played a year." I smiled. "And you're quite good–for a beginner. Your move."

He moved, then looked up. "It's nearly dusk, Uncle. Will this be the last game?"

"If you like." I would have liked to play until midnight, but I doubted he would. "Your father never 'got' this game," I said. "It was one of many little differences–and not-so-little ones, for that matter," I added with a sigh. "We never really understood each other. Caramon is so innocent!–and I'm so bitter. And yet we're brothers."

"Dad, innocent?" He laughed. "Since when? Compared to who?"

"Since always. Compared to me." I sneered. "He chose the exact hardest time to grow up–I was already well on the way to madness, and only dumb luck saved my sanity. I don't suppose you've ever heard the phrase, 'a love-hate relationship'?"

"I have a few times."

"That is how we felt, your father and I. The Test in the Tower didn't help, but we were like this even before. I love him and I hate him all at once. Bishop to D3."

"Rook to D6. I suppose I understand. Sometimes I felt that way about my brothers–I loved them, but they were so stupid! Such obvious things baffled them, and they teased me so!" He winced. "And then they died–and a small part of me says it's my fault."

I sighed. "I know, I know. Queen to G3. Check. It's called survivor's guilt, Palin. Every survivor of every disaster has it, at least a little: the feeling that you 'should have' died, too, that you weren't supposed to live– that it's all your fault. Ignore it."

"King to H2. I love you."

"I love you too, Palin. Rook to G4. Check and mate." I got up. "I think dinner's ready. Let's go in."

Palin stood, smiling. "Yeah–I'm hungry."

And we went inside.

The End